what cruel and capricious nature
deigns to spin these spectacles
to weave the warp and weft
till I and you and we are left
small bits of enchanted stars
sewn together through the unending
to a point of barely comprehending
that we are, and cause, the scars
that keep us up at night in fearful wonder;
are we spirited God-given gifts
or crying dying monsters
born of loveless lightning ‘midst the thunder
A Useful Idiot 
Sometimes it is as though we are and then the rising hope so far yet near in light speed
with infinite time an ever present now
LikeLike